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A ​Court of Silver Flames

Book by Sarah J. Maas · 17 quotes · A Court Of Silver Flames, Sarah J Maas, Nesta Archeron

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A ​Court of Silver Flames Quotes

“After the war, I was in a bad place. I still am, I suppose, but for more than a year after the war...' She couldn't look Gwyn in the eye. 'I did a lot of things I regret. Hurt people I regret harming. And I hurt myself. I drank day and night and I...' She didn't want to say the word to Gwyn- fucked- so she said, 'I took strangers to my bed. To punish myself, to drown myself.' She shrugged a shoulder. 'It's a long story, and not one worth telling, but through it all, I picked taverns and pleasure halls to frequent because of the music. I've always loved music.' She braced herself for the damning judgement. But only sorrow filled Gwyn's face. 'You've probably guessed that my residency in the House, my training, my work in the library is my sister's attempt to help me.' Her sister whom she had still not apologised to, whom she still didn't have the courage to face. 'And I... I think I might be glad Feyre did this for me. The drinking, the males- I don't miss any of it. But the music... that I miss.' Nesta waved a hand, as if she could banish the vulnerability she'd offered up. But she went on, 'And since I'm not particularly welcome in the city, I was hoping you meant it when you said I could come to one of your services. Just so I can hear some music again.' Gwyn's eyes shone, like the sunlight on a warm sea. Nesta's heart thundered, waiting for her reply. But Gwyn said, 'Your story is worth telling, you know.' Nesta began to object, but Gwyn insisted, 'It is. But yes- if you want music, then come to the services. We will be glad to have you. I will be glad to have you.' Until Gwyn learned how horrible she'd been. 'No,' Gwyn said, apparently reading the thought on her face. She grabbed Nesta's hand. 'You... I understand.' Nesta heard Gwyn's own heart begin thundering. 'I understand,' Gwyn repeated, 'what it is to... fail the people who mean the most. To live in fear of people finding out. I dread you and Emerie learning my history. I know that once you do, you'll never look at me the same again.' Gwyn squeezed Nesta's hand. Her story would come later. Nesta let her see it in her face, that when Gwyn was ready, nothing she could reveal would make her walk away. 'Come to the service this evening,' Gwyn said. 'Listen to the music.' She squeezed her hand again. 'You'll always be welcome to join me, Nesta.' Nesta hadn't realised how badly she'd needed to hear it. She squeezed Gwyn's hand back.”

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“We've been working for barely two weeks, Nesta. Physically, you might be seeing changes, but what's happening in your mind, your heart, will take far longer than that. Fuck, it took Feyre months-' 'I don't want to hear about Feyre and her special journey. I don't want to hear about Rhy's journey, or Morrigan's, or anyone's.' 'Why?' The words, the rage, built again. She refused to speak, instead focusing on tamping down that power inside her until it didn't so much as murmur. 'Why?' he pushed. 'Because I don't,' she snapped. 'Put those bat wings away.' Cassian obeyed, but stepped closer, towering over her. 'Then I'll tell you about my special journey, Nes.' His tone was icy in a way she'd never heard. 'No.' 'I slaughtered every person who hurt my mother.' She blinked up at him, the weight in her vanishing at the vicious words. Cassian's face held only ancient rage. 'When I was old and strong enough, I went back to the village where I was born, where I'd been ripped from her arms, and I learned that she was dead. And there was no one I could fight to change that. They refused to tell me where they'd buried her. One of the females hinted that they'd dumped her off the cliff.' Horror and something like pain went through her. His eyes flared with cold light. 'So I destroyed them. Anyone who wasn't responsible- children and some females and the elderly- I let them leave. But anyone who had played a role in her suffering... I made them suffer in return. Rhys and Azriel helped me. Found the piece of shit who'd sired me. I let my brother tear him apart before I finished him.' The words hung between them. He said with soft fury, 'It took me ten years before I was able to face it. What I'd done to those people, and what I'd lost. Ten years.' He was trembling, but not with fear. 'So if you want to take ten years to face whatever is eating you alive from the inside out, go ahead. You want to take twenty years, go ahead.”

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“... she shut her heavy eyes. 'Why don't they sign up for training?' He knew who she meant. 'Maybe they're not ready.' 'I thought they'd sign up.' 'Is that what you're upset about?' His question was so gentle, so sad. Nesta opened her eyes. 'Some of them have been here for hundreds of years and still haven't been able to come back from what they endured. So what hope do I have?”

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“No, her father was ashes in the wind, his existence marked only by a headstone on a hill outside the city. Or so her sisters had told her. I loved you from the first moment I held you in my arms, her father had said to her in those last moments together. Don't lay your filthy hands on my daughter. Those had been his final words, spat at the King of Hybern. Her father had squandered those final words on that worm of a king. Her father. The man who had never fought for his children, not until the end. When he had come to save them- to save the humans and the Fae, yes, but most of all, his daughters. Her. A grand, stupid waste. Unholy dark power flowed through her, and it had not been enough to stop the King of Hybern from snapping his neck. She had hated her father, hated him deeply, and yet he had loved her, for some inexplicable reason. Not enough to try to spare them from poverty or keep them from starving. But somehow it had been enough for him to raise an army on the continent. To sail a ship named for her into battle. She had still hated her father in those last moments. And then his neck had cracked, his eyes not full of fear as he died, but of that foolish love for her. That was what had lingered- the look in his eyes. The resentment in her heart as he died for her. It had festered, gnawing at her like the power she buried deep, running rampant through her head until no icy baths could numb it away. She could have saved him. It was the King of Hybern's fault. She knew that. But it was hers, too. Just as it was her fault that Elain had been captured by the Cauldron after Nesta spied on it with that scrying, her fault that Hybern had done such terrible things to hunt her and her sisters down like a deer. Some days, the sheer dread and panic locked Nesta's body up so thoroughly that nothing could get her to breathe. Nothing could stop the awful power from beginning to rise, rise, rise in her. Nothing beyond the music at those taverns, the card games with strangers, the endless bottles of wine, and the sex that made her feel nothing- but offered a moment of release amid the roaring inside her.”

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“Nesta only simmered, near-shaking with rage. Or cold. Cauldron, it was cold in here. Only the heated floors offered any reprieve. 'Fire,' he said, and the House obeyed. A great blaze flared to life in the hearth behind him. 'No fire,' she said, focused upon Cassian, though her words were not to him. The House seemed to ignore her. 'No fire,' she ordered. He could have sworn she blanched slightly. For a heartbeat, he was again in Rhys's mother's house in Windhaven. She'd been staring and staring into the fire, as if speaking to it, as if unaware that even he was there. The fire crackled and popped. Nesta seethed to the open air. 'I said-' A log cracked, as if the House was merrily ignoring her, adding heat to the flame. But Nesta flinched. Barely a blink and half a shudder, but her entire body went rigid. Fear and dread flashed over her features, then vanished. Strange.”

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“She didn't want to be in her head, didn't want to be in her body. Wanted the beating of drums and the riotous song of a fiddle to fill her with sound, to silence any thoughts. Wanted to find a bottle of wine and drink deep, let the wine pull her out of herself, set her mind drifting and numb.”

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“My father's death, it's- it's the reason I can't stand fires.' His hand stilled, then resumed. 'Why?' 'The logs...' She shuddered. 'They crack. It sounds like breaking bone.' 'Like your father's neck.' 'Yes,' she breathed. 'That's what I hear. I don't know how I'll ever not hear his neck snapping when I'm near a fire. It's... it's torture.' He continued to stroke her head. A wave of words pushed themselves out of her. 'I should have found a way to save us before then. Save Elain and Feyre when we were poor. But I was so angry, and I wanted him to try, to fight for us, but he didn't, and I would have let us all starve to prove what a wretch he was. It consumed me so much that... that I let Feyre go into that forest and told myself I didn't care, that she was half-wild, and it didn't matter, and yet...' She let out a wrenching cry. 'I close my eyes and I see her that day she went out to hunt the first time. I see Elain going into the Cauldron. I see her takin by it during the war. I see my father dead. And now I will see Feyre's face when I told her that the baby would kill her.' She shook and shook, her tears burning hot down her cheeks. Cassian kept stroking her hair, her back, as he held her by the lake. 'I hate it,' she said. 'Every part of me that... does these things. And yet I can't stop it. I can't let down this barrier, because to let it fall, to let everything in...' This was what would happen. This shrieking mess she'd become. 'I can't bear to be in my head. I can't bear to hear and see everything, over and over. That is all I hear- the snapping of his neck. His last words to me. That he loved me.' She whispered, 'I didn't deserve that love. I deserve nothing.' Cassian's hands tightened on her, her own hands falling away as she buried her face against his jacket and wept into his chest.”

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“I went into her nightmare,' Rhys peered up at Cassian. 'Why didn't you tell me you attempted a scrying today?' 'It didn't work.' And Nesta's fear and guilt had been so heavy in the room that his chest had ached. He'd left her alone afterward knowing she'd want privacy. Rhys let out a shuddering breath. 'The scrying was a trip wire. For the memories. I caught that as I went in.' His throat worked, as if he'd heave, but he held it odnw. 'She was dreaming of the Cauldron. Of... of when she went in.' Cassian had never seen Rhys at such a loss for words. 'I saw it,' Rhys whispered. 'Felt it. Everything that happened within the Cauldron. Saw her take its power with her teeth and claws and rage. And I saw... felt... what it took from her.' Rhys rubbed his face and slowly straightened. He met Cassian's stare unflinchingly, his eyes full of remorse and agony. 'Her trauma is...' Rhys's throat bobbed. 'I know,' Cassian whispered. 'I guessed,' Rhys breathed, 'but it was different to feel it.' 'What is her power?' Azriel asked. 'Death,' Rhys whispered, hands trembling again as he got to his feet and aimed toward the window, which was now repairing itself shard by shard, as if a careful, patient hand worked upon it. He gazed at the female sleeping in the bed, and fear clouded the face of the High Lord of the Night Court. 'Pure death.”

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“I am not a child to be fought over.' Nesta's pulse pounded throughout her body, 'Do you not remember the war? What we encountered? Do you not remember the Cauldron kidnapping you, bringing you into the heart of Hybern's camp?' 'I do,' Elain said coldly. 'And I remember Feyre rescuing me.' Roaring erupted in Nesta's head. For a heartbeat, it appeared that Elain might say something to soften the words. But Nesta cut her off, seething at the pity about to be thrown her way. 'Look who decided to grow claws after all,' she crooned. 'Maybe you've become interesting at last, Elain.' Nesta saw the blow land, like a physical impact, in Elain's face, her posture. No one spoke, though shadows gathered in the corners of the room, like snakes preparing to strike. Elain's eyes brightened with pain. Something imploded in Nesta's chest at that expression. She opened her mouth, as if it could somehow be undone. But Elain said, 'I went into the Cauldron, too, you know. And it captured me. And yet somehow all you think of is what my trauma did to you.”

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“All you have done is help yourself to our money.' 'Your mate's money.' Another flash of hurt. 'Thank you so much for taking time out of your home-making and shopping to remember me.' 'I built a room in this house for you. I asked you to help me decorate it. You told me to piss off.' 'Why would I ever want to stay in this house?' Where she could see precisely how happy they were, where none of them seemed remotely as decimated as she'd been by the war. She'd come so close to being a part of it- of that circle. Had held their hands as they'd stood together on the morning of the final battle and believed they might all make it. Then she'd learned precisely how mercilessly it might be ripped away. What the cost of hop and joy and love truly was. She never wanted to face it again. Never wanted to endure what she'd felt in that forest clearing, with the King of Hybern chuckling, blood everywhere. Her power hadn't been enough to save them that day. She supposed she'd been punishing it for failing her every since, keeping it locked up tight inside her. Feyre said, 'Because you're my sister.' 'Yes, and you're always sacrificing for us, your sad little human family-”

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“Cassian titled his head to the side at her silence. 'What is it?' 'Would you train non-Illyrian females?' 'I'm training you, aren't I?' 'I mean, would you consider...' She didn't know how to elegantly phrase it, not like silver-tongued Rhysand. 'The priestesses in the library. If I invited them to train with us here, where it's private and safe. Would you train them?' Cassian blinked slowly. 'Yes. I mean, of course, but...' He winced. 'Nesta, many of the females in the library do not want to be- cannot stand to be- around males again.' 'Then we'll ask one of your female friends to join. Mor or anyone else you can think of.' 'The priestesses might not even be able to stomach having me present.' 'You'd never hurt anyone like that.' His eyes softened slightly. 'It's not about that for them. It's about the fear- the trauma they bear. Even if they know I'd never do that to them, I might still drag up memories that are incredibly difficult for them to face.' 'You said this training would help me with my... problems. Perhaps it could help them. At the very least give them a reason to get outside for a bit.' Cassian watched her for a long moment. Then he said, 'Whoever you can get up here with us, I'll gladly train. Mor's away, but I can ask Feyre-' 'Not Feyre,' Nesta hated the words. The way his back stiffened. She couldn't look at him as she said, 'I just...' How could she explain the tangle between her and her sister? The self-loathing that threatened to consume her every time she looked at her sister's face? 'All right,' Cassian repeated. 'Not Feyre. But I need to give her and Rhys a heads-up. You should probably ask Clotho for permission, too.' A warm hand clasped her shoulder and squeezed. 'I like this idea, Nes.' His hazel eyes shone bright. 'I like it a lot.' And for some reason, the words meant everything.”

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“What's wrong?' Nesta pressed. Emerie's eyes turned bleak. 'It's... I swear, I can hear my father yelling down here.' Her hands trembled as she lifted one to brush a stand of hair behind an ear. 'I can hear him screaming at me, can hear the furniture breaking...' Nesta's blood went cold. She whipped her head to the downward slope to their right. No darkness lurked there, but they were low enough... 'This place is ancient and strange.' she said, even as she processed what Emerie had admitted. She had never spoken of her father beyond the wing clipping. But Nesta had gathered enough: the man had been a beast like Tomas Mandray's father. 'Let's go up a level, where the darkness doesn't whisper so loudly. I'm sure Gwyn will find us easily enough.”

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